Masked Shadows
by PurpleArmadillo
Summary: A collection of snippets that begins with Regulus' first raid and spans through the length of time that he was a Death Eater, ultimately ending with the quest into the cave. On HIATUS, sorry!
1. A Mission of Loyalty

**Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N: This story was written in response to a May List challenge at the Reviews Lounge, Lexie-H's community and forum. Everyone participating had to include these ten words:**

**Suave, slippers, cannibal, sapid (full of flavor), pirouette, curlicues, guitar, crystallized pineapple, hot air balloon, and repressed. **

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Masked Shadows _

_Chapter 1: A Mission of Loyalty_

The full moon shone through the forest of evergreen trees, illuminating the tips of their leaves with a mystical eerie glow. There was a rustling in some bushes and a young deer trotted out from the cover of the woods and into the bordering field to nibble hungrily at the lush, sapid grass. It started suddenly, perking its ears up as the sound of harsh voices echoed through the area. A group of five masked figures emerged out from between the trees and began to hurry across the length of the field, their black robes billowing behind them. The deer froze, watching them cautiously.

"You should be proud, dear cousin," one cloaked figure at the front of the group said, glancing backwards at one of the others. "Tonight you shall get the chance to prove your loyalty to the Dark Lord." There was no response; the only noises were the swishing of their robes and the muffled padding of their steps through the vegetation.

Another voice broke the silence with a suave tone that gave the impression of self-conceited superiority.

"Bella is right, Regulus; you are one of the youngest members ever to join the Dark Lord's ranks."

The one called Regulus Black continued to remain silent, fearful that his voice might betray how nervous he felt about his first raid. Bellatrix and Lucius might have been eager about the task at hand, but they enjoyed and took pride in being Death Eaters—he didn't. Sure he had wanted to join in the beginning but that was before he had discovered what being a servant of the Dark Lord involved. It was a lifetime of service, or death…

Regulus saw a flash of brown out of the corner of his eye and heard one of the others shout, "Avada Kedavra!" There was a blast of green light and the fleeing deer dropped to the ground. He repressed a pang of dread at the sight of the dead animal and he quickened his pace in order to keep up with the rest of the group. As he fell into stride behind Lucius, Regulus was strongly reminded of a scene he had once read in a book when he was littler: a group a vicious cannibals sneaking out from the shadows to prey on unsuspecting victims.

Soon, they came upon a small house on the edge of the field and Bellatrix motioned for them to stop.

"We have been given specific orders," she said, turning to face them and grinning with wicked excitement. "This family is known to be supporting Dumbledore's resistance force. Five days ago they helped the Ministry capture four other Death Eaters… Our job is to… dispose of them."

They approached the door and, after a nod from Bellatrix, Regulus pointed his wand at the keyhole and said, "Alohomora." The door unlocked and swung open silently as the group crept into the dark, rustic home. Regulus felt a flicker of hope; the place seemed empty, maybe no one was home. He peered around the living room they were gathered in and through the darkness he managed to spot several framed pictures hanging on the walls. One contained the image of a little girl with long brown hair that draped over her shoulders in multiple curlicues; she appeared to be in the middle of performing a pirouette and was dressed in a pink tutu.

A faint clinking and clanging reached his ears, like the sound of silverware on plates.

"Now!" Lucius shouted and they burst through the hallway up ahead and into the dinning room where the family was having supper. For a split second time seemed to stop as the mother, father, and daughter looked up at them in their pajamas and slippers, shock and fear written on their faces. Regulus was overcome with a lightheaded sensation, as if he was floating in a hot air balloon, looking down on the earth from a great distance, and thought for a moment he was going to be sick. He couldn't do this… he couldn't murder such an innocent family…

Time resumed and there was a din of shouts, spells, curses, and hexes flying in every direction. He gripped his own wand in a shaking hand and uttered an incantation. There was a noise that resembled a quivering, guitar string being clipped, followed by a blast of smoke that obscured his vision. Another crash, a bone-chilling shriek, and then ominous silence.

When the smoke cleared, Regulus looked around at the damage; the table was broken, something that seemed to be crystallized pineapple was spilled all over the floor, windows were smashed, part of the wall was caved in, and in the middle of the room were the lifeless bodies of all three family members.

"Foolish of them to think they could escape the Dark Lord's wrath," Lucius sneered, indifferent to the horrid crime they had just committed. He paused and Regulus half expected Lucius to comment on the fact that he hadn't really tried to harm anyone; he had been attacking in random directions, hoping that his spells missed. "I'm sure Bella will inform the Dark Lord about your service tonight."

He followed the rest of the Death Eaters back out into the night, not daring to look back at the destruction that lay in their wake. Reluctantly, Regulus raised his wand and fired the Dark Mark into the sky above the house, bathing it in an eerie green light. He had done it… He had become an official member in the Dark Lord's circle of followers… There was no turning back now.


	2. Duel In the Graveyard

**This started as a challenge, but I decided to write another chapter (this chapter isn't part of the challenge) for fun anyway.**

**Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling**.

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_Chapter 2: Duel In the Graveyard _

A fortnight had passed since Regulus' first raid and now, as he stood waiting in the cemetery, he regretted his choice of becoming a Death Eater more than ever. The moon behind him glowed yellow, giving the mist that surrounded him the same foreboding tint. The gravestones reared up from the ground like black fingers that seemed to loom closer every minute, as if they were trying to ensnare him within their clutches. Remembering why he was waiting there, Regulus drew his wand; he could feel his heart thumping loudly as the seconds dragged by.

He jumped slightly as there was a faint _pop_ and Bellatrix appeared; he noticed she had her wand drawn by her side as she approached him.

"I must admit you are doing well so far—" There was a brief pause and Regulus shifted uncomfortably under his cousin's gaze. "—considering your age… However, the Dark Lord feels there is the need for improvement." Not waiting for a reply, she continued. "Your talent with the Imperius Curse is impressive, but you have shown incompetence regarding the other Unforgivables…"

"I used the Cruciatus Curse two nights ago," Regulus said in defense.

"Yes, but you did not cast it correctly—you must want to harm the victim, you must enjoy their suffering." Bellatrix smiled tauntingly at him. "But perhaps the curse is too advanced for your level of magical ability…" Regulus frowned and opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off, "Prove it to me, then!"

He hesitated for a moment and shouted, "_Crucio!_"

Bellatrix took a sudden step backwards and gritted her teeth against the spell, but she managed to deflect it with a simple flick of her wand. Her eyes glinting with malice, she pointed her wand directly at Regulus and also cried, "_Crucio!_"

Pain such as he had never experienced before seared through Regulus' body and he screamed, collapsing on the ground in unbearable agony. As soon as the pain had started, it stopped and he hastily stood up, stumbling slightly.

"Shall I demonstrate a second time?" She raised her wand to perform the curse again, but Regulus shot a stunning spell that narrowly missed her shoulder, striking a grave behind her. "Little Reggie knows how to play," Bellatrix laughed, a fanatical tone ringing in her voice.

Regulus quickly dived behind the headstone next to him to avoid a rather nasty burning hex that had fired out of her wand, and he heard the stone crack beneath the spell's force. He leapt out and uttered the first incantation that he could think of.

"_Stupefy!_"

"_Protego!_"

He ducked as his jinx was bounced back towards him, its red light illuminating the area as it shot through the air.

"Is that the best you can do?" Bellatrix said. "Two stunners aren't going to be enough to win a duel."

With a loud _crack_, Regulus Disapparated and reappeared directly behind her; he bellowed, "_Impedimenta!_" and, having been caught off guard, his cousin was knocked backwards off her feet and thrown against one of the gravestones.

"_Incarcerous!_" Thick cords of rope burst out of Bellatrix's wand tip and snaked towards Regulus, who disintegrated them with a flare of fire.

"_Relashio!_" he shouted, but she blocked the blast of scorching water and made a quick slashing motion with her wand.

Regulus felt a sharp pain in his right arm and he fell to his knees on the ground, holding the wound with his other hand. Before he could make a grab for his dropped wand, Bellatrix pinned it in the grass with her foot and pointed her own wand at his heart.

Breathing rapidly, Regulus remained frozen in defeat, not daring to make any sudden movements.

"With more practice you will certainly become an invaluable asset to the Dark Lord in the future," Bellatrix let him stand up and handed him his wand. "As for now, I suggest you prepare yourself—we have a difficult task to complete tomorrow night…"

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**I'm not really sure where this is going yet. Maybe I'll do various events during the time Regulus was a Death Eater, leading up until his death (if he did indeed die—we've got to wait for the last book to know for sure).**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-PurpleArmadillo**


	3. Terror In the Night

**Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related is copyrighted to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.**

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_Chapter 3: Terror In the Night_

Joined by three other masked figures, Regulus hurried down an old cobblestone road. He pulled his robes more tightly around his body, shivering in the chilly night air. The dark, swirling clouds overhead emitted a light drizzle and the rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. The group turned the corner and passed by many empty houses with darkened windows and unkempt gardens.

"Do you think he's expecting us?" Regulus asked as they continued through a shadowy alleyway.

"Every Death Eater knows the punishment for betraying the Dark Lord," Regulus recognized the contemptuous voice of Severus Snape. "I'm sure he has realized that he would have to face the consequences eventually."

"What exactly did he do?"

"The Dark Lord suspects him of spying for the Order," Bellatrix said. "That's his house up ahead." She gestured towards a crumbling, ancient cottage at the end of the street. Its chimney was completely caved in and the paint was beginning to chip off. Ivy snaked its way around the home and crept in through one of its broken windows.

The group marched up the garden path and, as they approached the front door, Macnair said, "No point in using stealth this time." There was a loud bang and the door was blasted off its hinges; it landed on the floor with a thud, kicking up a cloud of thick dust.

Regulus followed the others as they streamed through the doorway and into the house. Glancing around the room, he spotted a man sitting on a chair in the corner; Regulus noticed that he seemed strangely unaffected and calm for someone who was staring at the imminent face of death. The man appeared to be well into his thirties, with dark brown hair and protruding eyebrows. He was dressed in an old tan traveling cloak, and his wand sat uselessly on a stool near the fireplace.

"It really was pointless to come here tonight," he addressed them. "A group of Aurors are already on their way."

Regulus frowned in disbelief.

"You're bluffing?" Macnair scoffed, apparently sharing Regulus' thoughts.

The man simply shook his head in response and stood up from his seat on the chair. "No, I'm not—I contacted them immediately after my anti-intruder jinxes alerted me to your arrival." He stalked casually over to the left window and peered out of it with a fake expression of mild interest.

"You know well what we are here for," Bellatrix said, as she raised her wand.

The man kept his back to them and remained silent, although Regulus noticed him shift uncomfortably.

"You have been accused of being a traitor to the Dark Lord…" said Snape. "… Of passing on information to the Order of the Phoenix… Do you agree with this accusation?"

"I-I don't—" His answer was drowned out by a loud crack of thunder. The flash of lightening lit up the house with an eerie blue light.

"No servant can serve two masters," Snape continued, clearly enjoying the note of panic in the man's voice. "He will either hate one and revere the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other."

"Enough talk, Severus!" Macnair shouted suddenly, stepping forward with his wand held threateningly. "The Aurors might burst through the door any minute—Let's finish it, now!"

"My loyalties…" the man wrung his hands nervously and dithered on the spot, his eyes darting towards the door as if he was trying to decide whether or not to make a run for it. "…Lie with Dumbledore!" He made a quick lunge for his wand on the stool, and, having grabbed it, turned to face the four of them. Macnair raised his wand to perform a curse.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Regulus shouted; both Macnair and the man's wands promptly flew out of their hands and landed on the other side of the room. "Sorry!" Regulus called guiltily, as the pair raced off after them, Macnair cursing under his breath.

At that moment, however, the fireplace flared to life and five wizards and witches burst out of the green flames, their wands fixed on the four Death Eaters in the room. One of the Aurors said, "This is the Ministry! You're under arrest!" She spotted the man in the corner; he had just managed to snatch his wand back and was now glaring at Macnair. "Sir, are you alright?"

"Yes," he replied curtly. "But I must say you took an awful long time to come here!"

"What do you expect?" Bellatrix sneered. "It's the Ministry… Always there when you don't need them and never there when you do."

"Lower your wand!" One of the other wizards ordered.

"As you wish," Bellatrix grinned mockingly and pointed her wand instead at the carpet at the wizard's feet. "_Incendio!_" Within the next second, the carpet was in flames and the formation of Aurors had backed up out of the way. "Go!"

Regulus didn't need telling twice; he bolted out the door in all of the smoke and confusion. "But what about Doyle?" He shouted over his shoulder to the others, referring to the man they had come to kill.

"It is done! Go!" Macnair said, motioning for Regulus to keep running. "Severus took care of him! Keep going—the fire won't hold the Aurors off for long—" There was another clap of thunder and a tree in the distance was struck with a bolt of lightening, causing it to crack and burst into flame.

Looking back, Regulus saw Snape emerge from the house, his black robes smeared with soot.

"Doyle placed anti-apparition boundaries around the area," he said as he reached them. "We have to make it across the bridge up ahead before we can Disapparate."

"There they go! Stun them!" There were shouts from behind them that told Regulus the Aurors were following in pursuit.

"_Sectumsempra!_" he heard Snape shout from beside him; there was a yell of pain that pierced the night.

Regulus ducked as a jinx narrowly missed his head, and shot his own spell at the Ministry officials, "_Imedimenta!_"

They were almost at the small, stone bridge that stretched over a river of stormy, churning water. The Aurors were close behind them; Regulus continued ducking, blocking, and dodging to evade their flurry of hexes as he sprinted towards the beginning of the bridge. He watched as Macnair and Snape arrived on the other side of it and Disapparated.

"Look out!" he heard Bellatrix hiss, and he hastily leapt to the side as a large, silvery spell shot by him; there was a sickening crack as the spell struck the bridge, and the structure collapsed, the stone remains plummeting into the water far below.

Regulus felt a pang of panic as their only chance of escape was carried away with the violent current. He came to an abrupt halt, standing back-to-back with Bellatrix, as the group of Aurors surrounded them, their wand tips pointing directly at their hearts.

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**Don't you just love evil cliffhangers? At least they're not as bad as the Cruciatus Curse... Well, stay tuned for more and thanks for reading! Reviews would be nice as well! **

**Oh yeah, speaking of reviews, if anyone would be interested check out Lexie-H's community, The Reviews Lounge. It is a collection of really great HP fics that are sadly under reviewed. I also have a little community where you can find HP fics that went over the review limit for the original Reviews Lounge. They are relocated at the Reviews Lounge Recommendations. Thanks for your time!**


	4. Fight and Flight

_**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.**_

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_Chapter 4: Fight and Flight_

Both the Death Eaters and the Aurors waited in tense silence, their wands raised, each side daring the other to make the first move.

"If only the Dark Lord could see you now…" a white haired wizard laughed, his voice equally filled with triumph and mockery.

Regulus stole a sidelong glance at his cousin; Bellatrix's expression was unreadable, although he noticed a surreptitious gleam in her eyes as she glared at the wizard. Regulus thought he saw the two exchange a subtle nod, but assumed he had imagined it; no one else seemed to have spotted it.

"…Two of his loyal followers captured by the Ministry," the man continued. "Rather pathetic, if you ask me."

"Don't gloat just yet," Regulus said grudgingly. "You might have surrounded us, but you haven't technically 'captured' us."

"Well, we can change that, can't we?" A witch with long, curly brown hair replied, nodding at the other Aurors. "Seize them!"

"Wait!" the white haired wizard shouted suddenly, stepping in front of her. "We must make sure they are Death Eaters first!"

The witch shot him an incredulous look. "What do you mean 'make sure'? We caught them red-handed!"

"Yes, but you can't be sure who really is one and who isn't now a days."

"Kent, they're standing right before us! Obviously, there's two Death Eaters here!"

"Oh, I beg to differ," the wizard called Kent smiled broadly.

Regulus gasped in surprise as the man's figure suddenly contorted and changed before them. His green cloak transformed into a black robe, and Regulus caught the flash of white-blond hair replacing the original white before a hood obscured the rest of the person's features.

The drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy came out from under the mask, "There are three Death Eaters."

"Polyjuice potion!" a short, black haired wizard exclaimed, keeping his wand carefully trained on the criminals in front of him. "_Incarcerous!_"

Before the ropes that had burst out of his wand could bind the three Death Eaters, Lucius flicked his own wand. There was a blast of smoke that erupted and it enveloped the area like a vast, white veil.

In the midst of all of the shouts and confusion, Regulus was knocked out of the now broken up circle of Aurors. He was roughly yanked back off the ground by the sleeve, only to come face-to-face with the end of another wand.

"_Stupefy!_" Regulus bellowed before the Auror could utter an incantation; the red jet of light hit the wizard square in the chest, and he fell backwards, disappearing into the ocean of white.

"_Reducto!_" he heard Bellatrix cry; her spell was followed by a noise that sounded something like a tree being uprooted and being thrown against another solid object.

Suddenly, the smoke cleared, and Regulus saw the immobilized bodies of two stunned Aurors. Looking to his left, he discovered that the sound he had heard seconds before had indeed been a tree; it had been completely ripped from the ground and had landed on a parked car, smashing the windshield and denting the roof.

"Behind you!" Regulus warned Lucius; there was a flash of light as Lucius whipped around, and the wizard who had been seconds away from ambushing him was hanging in the air upside down.

Regulus glanced up just in time to see a blonde haired witch aiming her wand directly at him.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

He yelled, "_Protego!_" and deflected the body-binding jinx, sending the Auror backwards through the window of a nearby house.

Suddenly, there was a bone-chilling roar, and Regulus spun around to find a giant brown bear looming over him. Standing on its hind legs, it drew itself up to its full height and brandished its long, curved claws.

Bellatrix shot a silvery spell at the animal; the hex struck the bear right in the eye, and it snarled in anger, taking a dangerous swipe at them.

Lucius waved his wand, and a stream of fire flared out of the tip.

Eyeing the crackling flames nervously, the creature backed away from the three Death Eaters.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" A green light fired out of Bellatrix's wand, missing the animal by inches as the bear fell to all four feet.

The creature abruptly began to shrink; its thick brown fur melted away to form robes and skin. Soon, they were facing the curly, brown haired witch—the last remaining Auror.

"An Animagus," Lucius smirked. "But tell me, can you conjure a Patronus?" Not waiting for an answer, he snapped his fingers.

Regulus shivered suddenly, although he knew it had nothing to do with the fact that his robes where drenched from the rain. An eerie mist had begun to form around them…

Two dark, hooded shapes emerged from the fog, gliding silently forward. He could hear the creatures' dreadful, rasping breathes as they drew closer.

"It seems you'll be the ones who will need to know how to cast the Patronus charm," the witch laughed as she watched the two dementors. "Seize them!"

Nothing happened. The dementors paused next to the Death Eaters, showing absolutely no intention of attacking them at all.

"What are you waiting for?" the witch asked. "That was an order!"

"I'm afraid the dementors no longer work for the Ministry," Lucius said, smiling at the look of shock and confusion on the Auror's face.

"W-what are talking about?"

"They have decided to join the Dark Lord… And, not to be rude," Lucius continued in a voice that threatened rudeness with every syllable, "but I daresay they have finally chosen the better side."

And with that, the two dementors advanced towards the now panicking Auror. Regulus did not see what happened after that, for Bellatrix said, "Now all we have to do is find a way out of here," and they turned onto a side street.

"Wait," said Regulus. "I've just thought of something!" He headed for the nearest house, ignoring the questioning comments of his companions. For the first time since he joined the Death Eaters, Regulus was at the front, leading them onwards.

He flung open the door and barged into the deserted home, scanning the room for… yes! There it was!

He approached the fireplace as Bellatrix and Lucius stepped in behind him. He pulled out a handful of powder from a pocket on his robes and handed some to them.

Walking forward to stand in the fireplace, Regulus threw his clump of powder down and said, "Knockturn Alley!"

The green flames rose up around him and the room vanished from his sight. He could feel himself getting dizzy as the Floo Powder transported him, and it wasn't until thirty seconds later that he tumbled out of the fireplace in Borgin and Burkes, sending soot flying all over the carpet.

He hastily moved out of the way as Bellatrix and Lucius arrived after him. The carpet was almost completely black now. Thankfully, the owner of the Dark Arts shop, Mr. Borgin, didn't seem to be in the room.

They left the store and walked out onto the street.

"We had better report back to the Dark Lord," said Lucius.

"Right," Regulus nodded and then—_CRACK_—Disapparated with the other two Death Eaters.


	5. A Change of Plans

**A/N: All right, since I haven't updated this in a while, here's a little refresher: Regulus, Bellatrix, and Lucius have just escaped from the Aurors and used the Floo network to get past the anti-Apparition boundaries.**

**Also, since I know someone is bound to ask about this: I mention something regarding a 'new Secret-Keeper' in this chapter. I needed that for the plot; I am not saying that it something which actually happened canon-wise. Also on that note, I'm not sure if the Carrows were Death Eaters during the First War, but I read on wikipedia that "they were one of the many who believed the Dark Lord to be gone". **

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The three Death Eaters hurried down the darkened hallway, their footsteps echoing off the cobwebbed walls as they approached a large wooden door. Lucius reached out, grasped its snake-shaped handle, and pushed it open. Regulus and Bellatrix followed after him as he crossed over the threshold and strode into the dimly lit room. 

Regulus blinked, his eyes not yet accustomed to the darkness, and looked around. Stretched out before them in a semicircle, stood a multitude of silent, cloaked figures, their silhouettes illuminated by the flickering candlelight. And there, standing behind a high-backed armchair in the center of the gathering, was Lord Voldemort. He glanced up in acknowledgement as they entered, but did not speak; instead, he averted his gaze downward, watching something that was out of sight beyond the mass of followers.

Stepping forward and bowing, Regulus, Lucius, and Bellatrix took their allotted places in the throng of Death Eaters. Regulus was surprised at their easy entry; he had expected Voldemort to question them about their tardiness, but then he realized that Snape and Macnair must have already explained about the Aurors.

It was then that he noticed what his master had been looking at; a petrified man was kneeling at the foot of the chair, and even through the faint light, Regulus could see that he was trembling.

"My Lord…please…"

"Enough," said Voldemort. "Get up, Avery. I have given you my answer."

The Death Eater stumbled to his feet reluctantly, and resumed his position next to Regulus.

"Please, Master, if I could have another chance," Avery begged, but Voldemort ignored him, turning his attention instead to Lucius.

"Well? What is your report?"

"The Order is planning the meeting for Thursday night," replied Lucius Malfoy. Regulus realized it wasn't a lucky coincidence that Lucius had been impersonating an Auror: he had been spying on Voldemort's orders.

"Thursday night," Voldemort repeated. He stepped out from behind the armchair and began to move around the room. "And you are sure this information is reliable?"

"Yes, My Lord, I heard it from the Auror, Frank Longbottom, himself. I managed to slip a few drops of Veratiserum into his drink."

Several of the Death Eaters appeared impressed at their companion's accomplishment, although none of them dared to break the silence. Voldemort, however, offered no congratulations.

"You have forgotten the most crucial piece of information, Lucius," he said.

"My Lord?"

"Where is this meeting taking place?"

Lucius hesitated.

"I-I was unable to get a response when I questioned him about the location—" He broke off as the Dark Lord's eyes flashed with anger.

"Of course…"said Voldemort, and he seemed to be speaking more to himself rather than to the others. "Dumbledore must have already chosen a new Secret-Keeper for the Order… That would be the only explanation as to why the Veratiserum failed… He has acted sooner than I expected—It seems I was badly advised that he would not perform the Fidelius Charm until Saturday…"

He fell silent for a few minutes, and his followers watched him apprehensively as he paced before them, sliding his wand through his fingers, evidently lost in thought.

"We must revert to the original plan then," Voldemort continued. "I will need one of you to track a member of the Order as he or she leaves the Ministry Thursday night. If this little gathering of theirs is indeed scheduled for that evening, then we should have no difficulty pinpointing their headquarters."

"My Lord," Avery stepped forward eagerly, "I will do it."

Voldemort paused, tilting his head a little to one side in amusement.

"You, Avery? Send _you?_" he asked.

A few of the Death Eaters snickered; Regulus saw Alecto and Amycus Carrow exchange a gleeful jeer.

"Tell me, why should I place a matter of such importance in yours hands? Your incompetence has shown that I can barely trust you with your own wand."

"But, Master—please, I-I wish to prove my loyalty—"

"—And you will get another opportunity to do so," replied Voldemort. "But not this assignment. Even one mistake at this point will set me back a long way."

He peered around at the rest of the assemblage.

"No other volunteers? What about you, Rookwood? Being an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries certainly puts you in an ideal posit—"

Avery had opened his mouth to protest.

"I have told you, no!" Voldemort turned, his robe swishing behind him, and his red eyes glinting menacingly through the darkness. Avery flinched and took a hasty step backward, tripping slightly on the hem of his cloak. "Interrupt me again, and I promise you it shall be the last breath you take."

Voldemort let the silence drag on horribly before continuing.

"So it is decided then—I will send you, Rookwood."

"Yes, of course, My Lord," a dark-haired man to Regulus' right answered, bowing respectfully. "It would be my honor."

"Your orders are to summon me once you have found their headquarters. I shall send for the rest of you afterward. "

"But My Lord," Rookwood said, "what if the member I am following Apparates or uses the Floo network instead?"

"Then the easier they will be to track," Voldemort replied. "The Floo network can be monitored, as well as all Appartition within certain boundaries. If you would rather it so, I shall send someone else to pursue them on foot, while you remain at the Ministry to watch over the transportation systems."

Rookwood nodded.

"And then," Voldemort addressed all of them, "with the Order of the Phoenix finally destroyed, we will have a clear shot at the Ministry of Magic."

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**Sorry to interrupt again, but I'd like to mention that I might take suggestions as to what you guys would like to see in some of the upcoming chapters. I may or may not use some of the ideas, but I'd like to hear from you guys out there. Afterall, we only know so much about what Regulus did during his last two years, and the rest we have to fill in the gaps for. What better way than to listen to reviewer input?**

**-PurpleArmadillo**


	6. A Grim Encounter

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, themes, ect. are copyrighted to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. No infringment is intended.**

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An ancient grandfather clock bonged somewhere in the dark and musty building of Grimmauld Place. Regulus rolled over on his bed, unable to sleep, as its deep chimes reverberated through the house. He was becoming increasingly anxious with every hour that passed by. How much longer would it be until he'd feel the familiar burning sensation on his left arm? Then he had a sickening thought: What if something went wrong tonight? What would happen if they arrived at their destination and found nothing? 

Finally giving up his attempt to get some rest, Regulus grabbed a silver mask from underneath his mattress and slipped out of bed. He quietly opened his door and made his way down the dimly lit hallway and the dust-covered staircase. As he entered the kitchen, a faint noise made him jump and he turned around.

"Where is Master Regulus going at this time of night?"

Two large, yellow eyes were watching him from the shadows at the bottom of the staircase.

"I have to leave in a little bit, Kreacher," Regulus replied as the house-elf stepped into view. "I'm only waiting for the Dark Lord's signal."

"Does young Master want Kreacher to tell the Mistress?"

"No, I've already told mother and father that I will be gone tonight."

"Yes, Master," Kreacher gave a deep bow, his long nose and bat-like ears almost

touching the floor. "Kreacher shall await young Master's return."

He shuffled back upstairs, leaving Regulus alone in the room.

Regulus began to pace around the kitchen, the mask still clutched in his hand. As the minutes passed, he eventually grew tired of this, and decided to take a seat on one of the chairs at the table. He yawned and slipped his mask into a pocket in his robe…

…He was running down a narrow tunnel…the ceiling hung dangerously low, and he struggled to see through the thick darkness surrounding him. His heart racing, he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. He had the sick feeling that something was chasing him, and he gripped his wand harder. But try as he might, he couldn't seem to reach the end of the path—the faster and harder he ran, the farther away the door became.

A sharp growl sounded behind him, and he swung around, wand at the ready. He gasped in a mixture of shock and fear as he caught sight of his pursuer: a large black dog with glowing, orange eyes. With a horrible snarl, the canine leapt at him, teeth bared—

Regulus jerked awake, nearly toppling off of his chair. For a terrifying second, he half expected to see the animal's eyes glinting at him from the shadows where Kreacher had stood, but then, much to his relief, he realized the whole thing had been a dream.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake…

…Now Regulus was hurrying along a dark hedge maze…He hurtled through foggy and winding paths, desperately searching for the way out. His breath rose up in clouds of white vapor and the beating of his heart pounded in his ears. Turning a corner ahead, he found himself looking up at a wall of thorny branches. He backed out of the dead end to retrace his steps. It was then that he saw it.

Standing before him, as black as night, was a Grim.

Regulus froze as the dog's gaze met with his, and for a tense moment they both stood motionless. Being careful not to make any sudden movements, Regulus slowly lowered his arm so that he could grab his wand from inside his robes. The creature's eyes shifted, following his motion suspiciously.

As his fingers found the wand's hard, wooden handle, the dog pounced. Regulus cried out in pain as its sharp teeth ripped through his sleeve, clamping down on his left arm--

He opened his eyes and flung his right hand over the area that the animal had bitten in his dream. Strangely, it was burning, even though he was sure he wide-awake. Regulus rolled up his sleeve to make certain there were no puncture marks, but the only thing he saw was the jet-black tattoo of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth…The Dark Mark…it was burning…

He suddenly leapt up out of his chair, this time knocking it over.

"The signal!"

Regulus hastily crossed the room and, reaching the front door, flung it open. He strode down the steps and Disapparated with a whirl of his cloak.

With a loud _CRACK_, he appeared on a grassy hilltop overlooking a row of quaint, little cottages. All around him, others were arriving, forming a vast ring that fanned along the crest of the embankment. Voldemort stood in the middle of the assemblage, waiting in silence as the last of the Death Eaters filled in the remaining gaps.

As Regulus joined the group, he noticed that many of them kept peering over in his direction. Feeling slightly annoyed and uncomfortable by this, he returned the sidelong glances, but the others quickly looked away as if nothing had happened.

Rookwood was the final member to take his place in the gathering, and he hurried forward, clearly flustered and out of breath.

"—My Lord, I couldn't—" he panted, "—There was a mishap in the Department and they sent for me to fix it—I couldn't monitor any of the systems—I tried to—"

Voldemort held up a hand, and the man fell silent.

"Relax, Rookwood," said Voldemort. "I do not blame you—there is nothing else you could have done without jeopardizing your position at the Ministry."

"Yes, Master," Rookwood swallowed, his voice hoarse with relief. "I was just afraid that I had caused more complications by not being able to do my job…"

"No, as it stands, everything is going according to plan…Young Barty Crouch here,"—a teenage boy to Regulus' left bowed in recognition—"has managed to locate the Order's current base."

The Dark Lord directed their attention toward one of the small, white houses near the end of the street. Its front yard was bathed in moonlight, and its windows were as dark as the night sky overhead.

Voldemort began to move along the inside of the circle, glancing at each of the Death Eaters in turn. For some, he paused and spoke to them, but others he passed in complete silence.

"What about you, Regulus?" asked Voldemort, stopping in front of him. "Are you sure you are ready for this?"

Regulus blinked, slightly taken aback. Was that why the other Death Eaters had been watching him? They didn't think he could do it--that he wasn't experienced enough…?

"I-I don't know what you mean, My Lord," he said.

"Your mask, Regulus."

It was then that Regulus realized, much to his embarrassment, that his mask was still lying inside his pocket, forgotten. He hastily pulled it out amid several bursts of laughter.

"Enough, enough," Voldemort said, and the circle became quiet once again. "The meeting should have started by now, and we mustn't keep the Order waiting…"

Regulus followed the others as they slipped down the side of the hill and streamed across the deserted road. There were no streetlights nearby, but the bright moon and twinkling stars were like beacons, lighting their path ahead.

"Stop."

They came to an abrupt halt on the edge of the frost-covered lawn, and those who were standing in the middle of the group parted, stepping over to the side so that their master could pass. Voldemort strode ahead of them and raised his wand, aiming it at the exterior of the house.

There was a resounding bang, and the front door buckled inward, falling to the ground in a shower of splinters. With cries and shouts of wicked excitement, the Death Eaters stormed over the threshold and into a large foyer.

Before Regulus could get a good look at the room, a door at the end of the hallway opened, and chaos erupted around him. He heard someone yell, "Death Eaters!" and he ducked as a curse went flying over his shoulder, missing him by centimeters.

Regulus whipped around and felt his heart skip a beat. Standing before him, wand raised threateningly, was none other than his own brother, Sirius Black.


	7. The Phoenix and the Serpent

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all related settings, characters, ect. are property of JKR.

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Chapter 7: The Phoenix and the Serpent_

"You're one of _them_?" Regulus asked, raising his voice over the din of the battle waging around them. He couldn't believe it. His brother, sorted into Gryffindor, and constantly disagreeing on his parents' views of Pure-blood supremacy, had always been considered a disgrace to the family. Even so, Regulus had never expected him to join the _enemy_…

Sirius frowned, pausing halfway through casting a spell.

"Well, if it isn't my little brother," he said, recognizing Regulus' voice. He let out a bark-like laugh, but did not lower his wand. "Ironic circumstances for such a…charming family reunion." Regulus saw his sibling's gaze flicker from him to their cousin, Bellatrix, who was busy dueling another Order member near the far side of the foyer.

Regulus took the moment to glance quickly around the rest of the scene: a Death Eater he didn't know the name of was fighting against Lily and James Potter; Remus Lupin, was firing a stunning spell at the Death Eater, Rosier; the last of Sirius' old friends, Peter Pettigrew, was nowhere to be seen (Regulus wondered whether he was ducking out of the fight in one of the side rooms); and in the heart if the chaos, Voldemort was dueling Edgar Bones, Dorcas Meadows, and Mad-Eye Moody all at once. Unable to get the upper hand, they were dodging and ducking away from his curses; Regulus watched as a green jet of light soared past Edgar, death missing him by inches.

"When did you join Dumbledore's little band?" asked Regulus, reverting his attention back to his brother.

"Since when do you care?" There was no laughter in Sirius' eyes now. "Sixteen years—sixteen years of neglect and hatred was all my family ever offered me. Why did you think I ran away? I had had enough—"

A sudden noise caught both of their attentions. Sirius and Regulus glanced up, only to dive out of the way a split second later. The chandelier suspended overhead had been struck by a stray curse, and it crashed to the floor where they had been standing, sending shards of glass in every direction.

"Well," continued Regulus, "maybe if you hadn't gone out and associated yourself with Mudbloods and Blood-traitors—"

"Don't call them that," Sirius said dangerously.

"Who?" Even though Regulus didn't like to admit it, he was getting a terrible sort of pleasure at his brother's anger. "Those friends of yours?

If you were smart you'd join us"—Sirius scoffed—"No, listen to me for a minute!" Regulus said sharply. "It's pointless to resist—you're fighting a losing battle! The Dark Lord is close to taking over the Ministry, Sirius, and there's nothing you or the Order can do about it! Joining him is the only way you can stay safe—"

"I know what you're going to ask me," interrupted Sirius. "My answer is no, I will never join you. I don't know how you can live with yourself, knowing that you're helping him do all of these terrible things."

"We're only doing it for the good of the wizarding race!"

"All of this pain and suffering?" Sirius continued. "No one is going to benefit from any of it!"

Regulus opened his mouth to retort, but stopped—a sharp hissing was coming from somewhere.

Regulus and Sirius turned to see a chilling sight. All across the foyer the combatants were pausing to watch, mesmerized with horror, as an enormous snake emerged from the tip of Voldemort's wand. But the thing that drew so many fearful gasps from the crowd was the fact that the creature appeared to be made up of pure Dark magic; its coiled body was nothing more than swirling, black vapor, and it seemed to drift through the air rather than slither upon the ground.

Both Order members and Death Eaters alike were watching the scene unfolding before them, all previous animosity temporarily forgotten. Moody, Meadows, and Bones, who had been dueling against Voldemort, backed up, wands raised warily, though uncertainly—how could they stop something that had no physical body? The giant serpent turned its unblinking eyes on them, readying itself to strike—Voldemort was laughing, a high, cold laugh that made the hair on the back of Regulus' neck stand up—the snake reared—

--But before it could strike, a brilliant flare of orange fire streaked through the air and arced overhead, illuminating the entire chamber with dancing light. In one fluid motion, the bewitched flames shot at the giant reptile, severing its body straight through the middle; Spitting and writhing, the creature fell back as its vaporous 'body' reconnected.

"What—" Voldemort turned, his red eyes searching the crowded area for the interloper. "_Dumbledore,_" he hissed.

Regulus looked up to see the tall form of the Hogwarts Headmaster framed in the doorway against the starry night.

The room became deathly quiet. The onlookers watched with apprehension as the new arrival stepped forward into the room.

"Good evening, Tom," Dumbledore nodded, speaking as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather.

Voldemort did not return his greeting, and there was a tense moment of silence.

"I thought you were not due to return until Saturday?" Voldemort forced himself to speak.

"As did I," admitted Dumbledore. "However, my meeting with the Minister finished sooner than expected due to a most urgent message." Regulus noticed the Headmaster's gaze flicker in the direction of one of the members of the Order, and Regulus figured the person must have alerted Dumbledore to their attack. "Indeed, it seems fortunate that I returned immediately…" His twinkling, light-blue eyes were watching Voldemort closely.

"Most fortunate," said Voldemort quietly. Regulus looked on nervously; he knew his master well enough to detect the malice hidden within the silkiness of his voice. "Of course, even you must know it is unwise to trust something as fleeting as chance…"

To Voldemort's right, the large snake shifted restlessly. With a single hiss, he commanded it, and the creature began to circle around the two wizards.

"It can be destroyed in a matter of seconds…"

Even with the snake moving so close behind him, Dumbledore remained unconcerned.

"You do not fear death, old man?" Clearly, Voldemort's innuendo threat had not produced the effect he had anticipated.

"Dying, I believe, is not the worst thing that can happen to a man," replied Dumbledore brightly.

"Then you're a deluded fool," Voldemort said.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"You see, Tom, to the well-organized mind,"—He cast him a meaningful look from over his half-moon spectacles—"death is but the next great adventure."

Voldemort's eyes flashed angrily. He waved his wand, and the monstrous serpent turned to face Dumbledore, opening its mouth wide to reveal long, curved fangs.

"Since death is nothing, Dumbledore, I present to you the beginning of your so called 'next great adventure…'"

Keeping his gaze and wand fixed on the Hogwarts headmaster, he spoke to the snake in Parseltongue.

"_Kill him_."

The creature lunged, but Dumbledore sent another blast of fire erupting out of his wand, and the snake recoiled. Instead of dissipating, the crackling flames spiraled higher into the air. As they reached the height of their ascension, they transformed into a magnificent shape: the fiery image of a phoenix.

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**A/N: **All right, so the scene with Sirius didn't last as long as I planned, but I do have a reason. I won't say when but I plan on doing a sole chapter that focuses only on the two brothers. I didn't want to put it here yet, because I felt it would have taken too much away from the rest of the scene around them.

So yes, rest assured, there will be a chapter later on. And now I would like to thank everyone who has been reviewing! Au revoir for now.


	8. Potentia Detrimentum

**A/N: Sorry about the wait. Hopefully the longer length will help make up for that. As always, thanks to all who continue to review, I really appreciate it.**

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__Chapter 8: Potentia Detrimentum_

Regulus had seen a considerable number of duels since his initiation as a Death Eater, but none of them could compare to the one he was about to witness. He looked up at the snake and the phoenix, curious. It was clear that both creatures weren't live animals—they seemed to be magic concentrated into the specific forms of their caster's choosing. Gazing at them filled him with a combination of amazement and intimidation.

As the firebird swooped down to hover beside Dumbledore, Regulus shifted uncomfortably. Regulus' gray eyes might have been focused on the scene in front of him, but his mind was distracted, anxious about the outcome of the confrontation. He doubted that he would be able to stand on the sidelines, watching indifferently, if his master was victorious. Even though he didn't know Dumbledore very well, Regulus didn't want to see his Headmaster seriously injured, or worse.

He reverted his attention and nearly had to stop himself from shouting, "Look out!" A Killing Curse from Voldemort's wand had soared over Dumbledore's shoulder; many people were forced to scamper out of the way as it struck a tapestry on the far wall, causing it to burst into green flames.

_What am I doing? _Regulus thought, as he tried unsuccessfully to push his concern to the back of his conscience. _I'm a Death Eater—I can't be worrying about the Order! _

Suddenly, Voldemort looked past Dumbledore and, for a few seconds, his piercing red eyes met Regulus'. The intensity of the gaze gave Regulus the exposed feeling that the Dark Lord was reading his mind, and with a jolt, he remembered that Voldemort was a Legilimens and indeed completely capable of that very feat. Regulus quickly glanced away.

"What should we do, Master?" Nott asked eagerly.

"Do nothing," Voldemort flicked his wand. The giant snake twisted around and encircled the two duelists, preventing any of the others from interfering. "Dumbledore is mine—His death will fall by my hand alone."

Angry protests and raising of wands from various Order members followed his statement, and Dumbledore held up a hand to quell them before speaking.

"The Order should note the same applies to them. I do not want anyone placing themselves in danger for my sake."

The phoenix leapt from its perch on Dumbledore's shoulder and flew at the serpent, jabbing its beak at any spot it could reach. The snake hissed and snapped at the smaller animal as it soared overhead.

Somewhere nearby the battle had broken out again between the two sides, and the remainder of the room was filled with the multicolored flares of hexes and curses. Regulus saw Sirius busy fighting the Death Eater Mulciber, though he did not care. His mind wandered back to the fearful suspicion that Voldemort had seen his disloyal thoughts and about what would happen to him as a consequence.

Knowing what he must do, Regulus pointed his wand and singled out the person who would serve to prove where his allegiance truly resided.

-------------------------------

Dumbledore waved his wand; at the same time Voldemort cried, "_Avada Kedavra!_" The two spells collided in midair and exploded with a spray of red and green sparks. There was a shrill cry as the phoenix dived—its fiery talons raked the snake's side, but could not inflict any lasting damage to its amorphous body.

"And they say you're the greatest wizard of the age," said Voldemort. "Is this the culmination of your power, Dumbledore? A pitiful songbird?"

He made a rapid slashing motion with his wand and Dumbledore took a step back, clasping his left hand over his side. The phoenix let out a pained squawk, flickered, and vanished.

Then, a horrible grating sound filled the hall as something long and metallic sprung off a mantle above a doorway. Dumbledore found himself face-to-face with a row of spears poised precariously in the air. They revolved slowly on the spot, their pointed heads gleaming, before plunging themselves at the older wizard. Dumbledore conjured a shield in time to deflect them; they hit the white barrier with such force that one was knocked spiraling into the crowd.

Before the other ancient relics hit the ground, Dumbledore transfigured them into four solid icicles and sent them hurling back into the opposite direction, aiming not at his enemy, but instead at the snake. The first two icicles missed as the monster wrinkled to one side; the third grazed its middle while the fourth struck it perfectly between the eyes. The creature's hiss of fury was muffled as the icicles melted and refroze, encasing the snake in a layer of ice. Then, the glistening cocoon cracked and broke, splitting its captive into a heap of jagged pieces, and ensuring that it wouldn't be able to reform itself again.

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Regulus fell back, panting, straightening his hood and mask. In front of him Marlene McKinnon also paused, seizing the opportunity to magically heal the bruise she had sustained on her forearm. Regulus fingered the large rip that ran along his own sleeve and frowned in frustration; he hadn't expected Lily Potter's old school mate to be such a formidable opponent. He took aim and shouted, "_Stupefy!_" But Marlene had finished and was prepared for his attack.

"_Impedimenta!_" she said as she evaded his stunner.

"_Protego!_" Regulus countered, though too late. The tail end of the spell was successfully blocked but the front got him head-on. His vision blurred and he blinked, rubbing his stinging eyes. He could hear Marlene uttering another incantation and saw the flash of light through his impaired range of sight. Regulus leapt blindly to his right and bumped into something hard. He squinted, but all he could make out were whirls of color and shadows.

He stumbled backward and touched the tip of his wand to his temple while muttering, "_Finite._" As his vision instantly cleared, he turned away from the upset table he had run into and faced Marlene again.

Before either of them had moved an inch, there was a loud clang and a silver glint caught Regulus' attention. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he realized what it was; reacting instinctively, he dived to the floor just as the object zipped over him. A little shaken, he got to his feet and looked behind him where the spear had embedded itself in the wall, its wooden shaft still quivering.

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"Your abilities have matured since last you arrived a student in my class those many years ago," said Dumbledore, taking a step forward. His powerful spells were forcing Voldemort to back away toward the rear of the foyer. "You still, however, have much to learn."

"I've performed feats of magic that far transcend anything you could have taught me," Voldemort extended his hand into the air. A heavy darkness fell upon the room and a wind could be heard pounding against the building, viciously rattling the windows.

"True," Dumbledore admitted, "but you only know one side of wizardry. You fail to recognize there is a second, stronger dimension, a dimension that has infinite power." He paused, waiting patiently for Voldemort to respond. "Love, Tom, it is love."

"Love?" Voldemort laughed. "Your eccentricities never fail, Dumbledore. Have you any more fairytale morals you wish to enlighten me with?" There was obvious irritation in the Dark Lord's voice; the storm seemed to increase in brutality, the wind now howling through the cracks between the windowpane and the glass.

"Certainly," Dumbledore said, "though I see it is best I say nothing at all-- expecting you to listen would be hopeful to the point of foolishness."

Suddenly, the front window shattered. The gale blew into the hall, slamming the doors open and shut, and knocking things from the walls. There was a tremendous groan as the pressure of the wind became too great, and then, with an ominous crack and creaking sound, sections of the structure began to fold inward. The stronger reinforced walls held in place, but the weaker ones were easily thrown over as though they were pieces of paper.

The scene grew chaotic. Death Eaters and Order members hurried to get out of harm's way as more chunks of wood and tiles rained down around them; people were fleeing into the road while others chose the surrounding lawns of neighboring cottages.

There was a last, horrible moan as the chimney and roof collapsed. In a twirl of his cloak Dumbledore was gone; it appeared for a moment that he had given up and left, but then Voldemort saw that the elder man had only transported himself onto the frosty yard, a safe distance from the crumbling headquarters. At the last possible second, with the plummeting debris mere inches away from crushing him, Voldemort directed his wand upward, causing it to halt in mid-fall. He flung it aside and followed suit after Dumbledore, Disapparating with a whip-like _CRACK_.

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The cold night air burned Regulus' lungs as he fought against the wind, trying to put as much space between him and the dangerous structure as he could. Everywhere others were scattering, some of them badly wounded. He glanced over his shoulder as he came to a rest in the street and immediately did a double-take. He had lost Marlene in the confusion but now he could spot several panicked Muggles amid the mass of witches and wizards. He hadn't thought about the amount of noise they were making, not to mention the storm. Even the heaviest sleeper would have noticed his house being torn apart.

Surveying the damage, Regulus raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Somehow the only building affected was the one he just escaped from; the surrounding residences were exactly the same as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Regulus watched with slight amusement as a handful of the Order rushed toward the bewildered Muggles. He wasn't at all surprised when seven Death Eaters pursued, clearly delighted by the sight of the new magic-less targets. The five Order members held their wands up defensively, but even their jeering masked attackers knew they wouldn't be able to protect the helpless Muggles for long.

Unfortunately for the Death Eaters, they never got the chance to add another set of victims to their list, for at that moment a large number of uniformed figures appeared out of thin air. Their brightly colored green robes and business-like demeanor set them apart from the shrewdness and black attire of Lord Voldemort's followers.

Lucius Malfoy stepped in beside Regulus. He shouted a warning to the rest of their companions.

"It's the Ministry!"

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"Can't you see that it's over?" asked Voldemort. "The Order is finished!"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "It seems the tide has turned."

The scene that met Voldemort as he turned around was not a pleasant one. The wave of Aurors was rapidly advancing, driving the remainder of the Death Eaters back. To his extreme discontent, some of his more cowardly disciples were Disapparating, out right disobeying his commands.

"No! I did not bid you leave!" With a cry of frustration, Voldemort rounded on Dumbledore for a final time. "This ends, now!" From the tip of his wand burst a purple, web-like substance that moved through the air in a zigzagging pattern. Its spidery threads branched outward, creepy steadily toward Dumbledore.

Suddenly, an Auror, having been hit by a disarming jinx, tumbled through the surrounding throng. The witch looked up to discover she had landed in the middle of the duel, turned a deathly shade of white, and stumbled to her feet, desperately scanning the ground for her dropped wand. Voldemort redirected his own wand at the terrified Ministry employee, who was blocking his ability to get a clear shot at his foe.

However, the split-second distraction was all Dumbledore needed. The veil of light that he materialized was enough to push the Dark magic backward, reversing its course. Before Voldemort knew what had happened, he found himself snared in the coils of his own spell, his wand pinned uselessly by his side. Struggling against the thick binds, he managed to loosen his arm and cast a severing charm. It became clear as the pieces fell to the dirt that, no matter how fast his escape, Voldemort had not emerged unscathed. There was a noticeable waver and strain in his stance, and his breathing had become more rapid.

"Potentia Detrimentum," Dumbledore said pensively, "a very resourceful curse; even more intriguing is its curious energy-consuming effect."

"How—?" Voldemort glared at him with deep animosity. "—the curse cannot be blocked!"

"The explanation is simple; as I stated previously, love or rather, light, is not so easily conquered. You may believe darkness is omnipotent, but keep in mind that even in the darkest of times there is the smallest ray of light."

It was an impressive sight as Dumbledore stood triumphantly beneath the bolts of lightening that flashed overhead, and he seemed to be encompassed by an aura of power and authority. There was a hint of fear in Voldemort's eyes as he stared at his former Transfiguration professor, but Dumbledore did not show any intention of surrendering.

There was no doubt in either of their minds that the battle was over. Seriously weakened by the dark spell, Voldemort was unable to continue the duel and, as the Ministry closed in, he was forced the Disapparate.

With their master gone, the Death Eaters cowered as Dumbledore's stern gaze fell upon them. Regulus looked around; they were surrounded in every direction, Dumbledore and the Order on one side, and the Aurors stationed on the other.

"Take them!" a Ministry wizard yelled, and suddenly, a hundred hexes soared their way. Regulus ducked, not able to fire back out of the fear of hitting the other Death Eaters. There were screams of pain and anger, and several people fell. Regulus was pushed and bumped in the pandemonium, and he felt his accomplices disappear in retreat. He was about to follow them when something made him hesitate.

"Drop your wand!" Bartemius Crouch, Sr., Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, growled at one of the last Death Eaters. Regulus realized with horror that the cloaked figure he was confronting was none other than Barty Crouch, Jr. The only thing keeping Mr. Crouch unaware that his own son had joined the Dark Lord was a single, silver mask.

"Lower you wand!" Crouch repeated, more forcefully this time. Barty prepared to cast a Cruciatus Curse, but then two more Aurors appeared at his sides, their wands pointed at his throat. "Grab him," his father nodded to the witch on the right and then addressed the wizard at his left. "And you—remove his mask before you make the arrest."

"No!" Regulus leapt forward. "_Stupefy!_"

The surprised wizard was struck by the spell and collapsed, temporarily stunned. As Crouch turned furiously to see who the intruder was, Barty quickly defeated the other Auror, and together, he and Regulus Disapparated.

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A Death Eater drew forward, only to have her offer declined.

"I do not require assistance," Voldemort answered, agitated. The witch hastily stepped away and resumed her spot in the dark room. Gripping the edge of the high-backed armchair at the head if the group for support, Voldemort watched the congregation of people. The raid had backfired spectacularly; while they inflicted a good number of casualties on the Order, many of the Death Eaters had been killed or captured.

"What I want," said Voldemort, his voice dangerously low, "is to know why several of you saw it fit to dismiss yourselves without my consent."

No one dared to meet his eyes. Then, after a brief silence, Dolohov responded.

"I—we meant no disrespect, of course, my Lord…it's just"—he let out a nervous laugh—"we can't really serve you if we are sent to Azkaban; that is what we were trying to avoid," he finished weakly.

Voldemort raised his wand and, though his power was temporarily affected, it was enough to make the man before him gasp in pain and drop to his knees.

"I am not amused," hissed Voldemort. "It appears you all need a reminder of how serious I view perfidy."

Regulus and the others were forced to watch as he used the Cruciatus Curse upon the Death Eaters who had deserted the battle.

"Let this serve as an example," Voldemort continued after he lowered his wand. "When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed without question." Next, he addressed Regulus.

"I wish to speak with you alone, Regulus—the rest of you may go."

Regulus waited as the others left, and he swallowed nervously as he approached the foot of the chair.

"Do you know where most traitorous actions begin?" Voldemort was regarding him carefully. Regulus remained quiet, staring at a spot on the floor. "They are normally preceded by doubts of the mind…"

_So he knows, _Regulus thought, feeling a sick sensation in his stomach. Now his suspicions were confirmed: the Dark Lord was indeed a Legilimens.

"Please, my Lord," Regulus burst out abruptly, eyeing the tip of Voldemort's wand. He had been subjected to the torture of the Cruciatus Curse before and wasn't in a hurry to relive that experience. He knew the only reason his master hadn't cast it on him yet was because Voldemort was fighting to conserve the small amount of strength he still possessed. "I only had those uncertain thoughts because Dumbledore is my Headmaster—but it won't happen again—I'll prove my loyalty, I'll do anything you require of me."

His statement was a true one, and he knew that his master would be able to see his determination.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, considering him for a moment, trying to detect any traces of dishonesty.

"Very well," he answered finally. "You are treading on a very thin wire of my patience; I rarely give second chances, as you are well aware, and this will be the only one you receive. The next time you displease me, Regulus, you can rest assured that my power will not be impaired, and you shall obtain no reprieve—I will not warn you again."


	9. Babysitter

_Chapter 9: Babysitter_

"Have a good evening, Jan."

"You too, Matthew," the woman nodded to her coworker behind the counter as she headed out of the bank's open door, one hand fumbling inside her purse for her car keys. It had been yet another repetitive and uneventful day at work during her shift at Regent's Bank, and now Janice Wittenmoore found herself eager to get home; at least there was never a dull moment with her two children running around creating havoc.

She stepped out into the parking lot and into the darkening night. The luminescent glow of the streetlight reflected orange off of the silver vehicle ahead as she paused next to its driver's side door. The tips of her fingers brushed against cool metal and Janice closed them around the elusive set of keys. Reaching her arm out to unlock the car, she stopped briefly, though she did not know why at first. That was when she heard it.

It pierced the silence of the night with a shrill, unwavering note almost like the whistle of a kettle, only ten times louder and more threatening. For a second, Janice thought it was a police siren, but she quickly dismissed the idea—this sound was constant, never once deviating.

Heart hammering inside her chest, she pushed the key in, turned it, and flung the door open. She was out of the parking lot before she even realized she had started the ignition. The young woman ran the red light on the adjacent street, but it did not matter—there was no one else on the roads, no sign of life anywhere she looked. Relax, Janice reminded herself, forcing her trembling hands to loosen their grip on the steering wheel. Her attempt at composure ultimately failed however when the volume of the horrible whistling grew enough to be audible inside her car, despite the rolled up windows and the whine of the engine as she barreled down street after deserted street.

She turned a corner on her left and gasped, slamming her foot on the brakes. Her wide eyes absorbed the entire scene all at once, thought it took her mind several seconds longer than usual to comprehend exactly what she was witnessing.

The petrol station further down the street was engulfed in ferocious orange flames, and thick black smoke streamed up from their tongues, billowing into the sky and causing the night to become pit-black. The shriek was deafening now. The crowd that had gathered was filled with frightened faces, and many hands were clasped over pairs of ears. Obscured by the impenetrable veil of smoke, the blue and red flash of police cars and fire engines could be faintly seen, their sirens blocked out by the dreadful whistle.

Janice scrambled out of her car, the key still hanging in the ignition, long since forgotten. Bursts of red and green light flared across the scene, though Janice could not begin to guess what they were. She sprinted forward, lips parted and concern etched into her face. Everything was wrong—the people were too close; she wanted to call out, to warn them, to tell them to get back.

Suddenly, the crowd broke. Figures scattered wildly in various directions, and the area became more chaotic. Screams sprang into the air, as did another blast of strange green light, only this one was enormous. It rose higher and higher into the darkness, so bright that the smoke could do nothing to hinder it, and there it hovered, far above the roaring fire and black ash. Janice stared, aghast, in disbelief as the light changed, seemingly shaping itself, becoming more solid. It sat there, emblazoned in the night, an omen of evil: a piercing green skull with a serpent twisting out from its gaping mouth.

Then, the ground heaved. Tremors shook the area, and many people fell in their wake. There were out shouts now that mixed with the ones of fear, cries of amusement followed by angry answers. Janice opened her eyes and found herself collapsed in the dirt; the smoke was everywhere now, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Doing her best to block the earsplitting whistle from her pounding head, she tucked her knees under and began to crawl away from the danger, hoping that her car was waiting in the direction she was heading.

There was the commotion of voices nearby and Janice's vision was momentarily blinded by more spouts of red and green light, intense and extremely close at hand. A blast of green followed by a reply of red, and then a cry of pain.

"I've got one!" someone called triumphantly.

"It's about time! I thought your aim was getting rusty." The answer was playfully teasing, though strung with graveness. "Where are you? I can't see a thing."

"Hold on a minute, I'll get—"

Janice let out a startled yell as she felt the first speaker trip over her. Before she could react, she found herself blinking as a sharp white light was thrust into her soot-covered face. There was a tense pause of silence and then the person lowered the point of light, reaching out to grasp her under the arm.

"Sirius, are you all right?" the second voice shouted, concerned and uncertain.

Janice peered up into the ashy countenance of the young man in front of her as he helped her to her feet. His black hair ran down to his shoulders and he was covered from head to toe in black powder from the raging fire. The man was a complete stranger to her, and yet his warm and reassuring gaze from deep brown eyes erased all trace of fear.

"I'm fine, James!" he answered. "I've found another bystander—a Muggle—"

Her strength faltered slightly and Janice felt herself tip sideways, but the man quickly caught her and let her support herself against his shoulder. It was then that she noticed what he was holding in one hand; it appeared to be a long, straight stick illuminated at the end with the same white beam.

"Come on," he placed his other hand on her back, leading her forward. "We've got to get you out of here." Her rescuer's voice was encouraging but filled with urgency, and Janice observed that his eyes glanced warily from side to side and he never showed a sign of dropping his strange glowing stick.

Hundreds of questions wheeled around in her mind, but Janice was too exhausted to ask them—besides, she didn't think she had enough energy to talk over the earsplitting shriek of the eternal whistle. She groaned and screwed her burning eyes shut, wishing beyond hope that it was stop. Then she gasped in horror, for it was at that second that she realized what the noise must mean.

Another dark figure grew out of the smoke encasing them and approached the man named Sirius.

"Get her out, now!" the second man from earlier shouted over the sound. "I have to double-back—I'll meet up with you later—"

"James, we're outnumbered!" Sirius interjected. "You can't go back alone! Who knows how many of them are still out there. Wait a minute and I'll head back with you."

"Padfoot," James replied, placing a hand firmly on his companion's shoulder; the seriousness of his tone was impressive. "There isn't time. The pressure is mounting; it could blow any sec—"

Then, the world itself burst. The earth rippled and split; fire, smoke, and debris shot through the air in every direction; waves of searing heat whipped the area, and screams were abruptly stifled. Something hard struck the back of Janice's head and all turned to darkness.

* * *

The first thing that Sirius Black was aware of was the ominous silence. The whistle had gone, the shards of glass and chunks of cement had settled, and all sounds of life had disappeared. He opened his eyes and gave a sickening series of coughs, his lungs protesting against the gulps of ash and smoke they had inhaled. He stumbled to his feet and stood still, waiting for the dizziness leave his head. How long he had been lying there unconscious he did not know.

Sirius glanced out onto a foreign landscape; the neighborhood was scarcely recognizable in its current state. Dust and shreds of metal coated everything in sight, flames raged violently, buildings were reduced to rubble, and whole sections of the road had been ripped up and flung through the air.

He then remembered the woman. His dark eyes scanned the environment for any sign of the Muggle or his friend, James, but he knew it was in vain. It was utterly impossible to make out much of anything underneath all of the destruction, and Sirius was sure that the force of the explosion had knocked him far from his previous location.

A new noise rose out of the night, sharp and painfully loud after the dead stillness. Sirius felt the anger and frustration building inside of his chest and his clenched fists shook as he wheeled around to pinpoint the source of the awful laughter. No less than thirty feet away, a small cluster of black-cloaked figures was rapidly approaching, the thick layer of soot smeared on their robes and masks hinting at the horrible role they had played that evening. Spotting the upright form of Sirius, one of them gave an exuberant cry.

"There's another one!"

A chorus of jeers followed, each ringing with sick amusement and malintent. Sirius glared at the advancing outlines of the Death Eaters, forcing his body to remain calm for the moment, not to spring into an attack too early. He was clearly outnumber five-to-one, and he kept his wand hidden by his side—obviously they assumed he was just another poor defenseless Muggle…. He didn't want to burst their bubble just yet.

"Aww, is the wittle Muggle lost?"

Sirius gritted his teeth shut as he recognized the deranged voice of his cousin; thankfully, the dirt and ash plastered to his skin, hair, and clothes were effective at disguising his true appearance, and she seemed to not have realized his identity for the time being.

"Maybe that was the wife we found dead over there."

Again, Sirius struggled to keep his fury under control. He rolled his eyes and frowned in disgust at the reply of the second Death Eater. Great, he thought, another happy family reunion. The tone of his younger brother's comment equally surprised and disturbed him for the usual hesitancy and reluctance Regulus expressed was replaced by a cold indifference.

Bellatrix reverted her attention to the lone Order member standing in front of her, removing her silver mask to reveal a malicious smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Well then, let us not keep them separated any longer."

Her right hand half raised to execute the final killing curse, his cousin stopped and blinked, the laughter in her eyes vanishing in an instant.

"_You_," she hissed suddenly, as an old animosity returned and twisted her features.

In a flash, Sirius had whipped out his wand, but too late.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Death erupted in a jet of green light from the end of Bellatrix's wand, but before it could reach its intended target something solid collided with Sirius and pushed him out of the spell's path. He landed hard onto the ground and, likewise, the thing fell even harder ontop of him, successfully knocking the air from his strained lungs.

"Dammit, Padfoot! Can't you manage to stay out of trouble for one minute?"

Half surprised, half relieved, Sirius looked up into the dirty face and round glasses of James Potter. As always, his friend's messy black hair was just as unruly as ever.

"Right, Prongs," Sirius answered sourly as he and James hastily rolled to their feet, wands ready, "Suppose next time I'll get a better babysitter."


	10. For Better or For Worse

**A/N: It's been a while since I last updated so I will briefly recap the previous chapter: a group of Death Eaters have just attacked a city pertol station and the explosion has caused Sirius to loose the Muggle woman, Janice, he was trying to escort to safety. Searching in the ash and debris, he qucikly runs into the nasty group of dark wizards and witches, to the delight of Bellatrix of course. Having caught up with his friend, James knocks him out of the way of his cousin's Killing Curse, and the two of them face their enemies, back to back. The result of this situation is later revealed here in a flashback.**

Chapter 10: For Better or For Worse

The night pressed down thick and heavy over the sparsely populated countryside, and the intermittent branch of lightening streaked across the cloudy sky as the distant rumbles of thunder followed in its wake. No breeze stirred the air and silence covered the area like a great muffling veil, broken only by the occasional shrill cry of a night bird, dark and unwelcoming in the emptiness of the dirt lane.

It was along this lonesome path that two shapes trod, their loose black cloaks streaming out behind them and seeming to melt into the encompassing darkness. The lane's lack of streetlights proved no hindrance as both wizard and witch held aloft a wand crowned at the tip with a ring of brilliant white light. Ahead of them the dirt road stretched onward to be swallowed up by the night, while on either side a dilapidated stone wall created a crude border, with many of its ancient rocks lying useless on the ground, untended and forgotten. To the far right, obscured by inky low hanging clouds sat a small sleepy village sheltered in the distant valley. The few Muggles who still dwelled there were simple country folk and seldom ventured as far out as the winding lane, believing the place to be haunted due to its recent history of strange and frightening occurrences.

The pair of figures continued on through the evening, their robes swishing in rhythm with their steps as lightening arced overhead heralding the approaching the storm.

"Any trouble getting here?" the taller of the figures inquired, not so much out of interest but rather to broke the stale silence.

"No more than usual," Regulus replied. "Creep past Slughorn's office, through the portrait passage, dodge the Auror patrols…. Thank Merlin the Dark Lord grants me a little tardiness under the circumstances. The last few times I was lucky enough to be at Hogsmeade when I felt the summons and it was only a matter of getting out of sight and then Apparating."

"Of course that was during the day," said Bellatrix, glancing at him. "No nighttime visits to Hogsmeade—at least none that are permitted."

There was a pause before she continued, as both of them had stopped, listening to ensure they were not leading along any unwelcome followers. Then, certain they were alone, they resumed their march.

"I assume you use the Floo Network to leave the castle, then?"

Regulus nodded, but then remembered that she probably could not see such a subtle movement in the darkness.

"I have found no better way," he said. "The Gargoyle Gate is locked shut and covered with enchantments. The fireplaces in Hogwarts are the only thing not watched by the Ministry, and once in Hogsmeade, again, all I need to do is Apparate."

Another pause commenced in which the claps of thunder sounded particularly loud as they echoed in the right-side valley.

"You've finally made it, Regulus."

The abruptness of the statement and its ambiguity surprised him, and he looked at her with a blank expression, uncertain.

"I admit in the beginning I doubted whether or not you could survive as one of us," Bellatrix explained, turning her gaze away in front of her. "I worried that your expectations deviated too much from the reality you would face while in his service, and that you wouldn't be strong and determined enough to meet the demands of the Dark Lord. But you have persisted, and even he has taken notice over the past months that whatever hesitation and regrets you held in the beginning they have been replaced by healthy loyalty and willingness." She gave him an approving smile, genuine though made slightly unnerving beneath the fanatical gleam that shone in her dark eyes when she spoke of such devotion to their Master. "You should be proud, little cousin."

The two Death Eaters hurried on in an easier quiet, though inside his mind Regulus pondered the rare compliment. It was true, he realized, that something about him had changed—for better or for worse would depend on the side one was on. The crimes that he and his companions had committed would forever be burned into his memory, to horrible to forget…. But having been a part of them and having witnessed such displays over and over…. An awful sense of indifference seemed to have developed before he was even aware of it.

Regulus was jolted out of his reverie by a series of sudden events that happened almost simultaneously. A reddish-brown creature sprinted into the lane in front of them, and they raised their wands, Bellatrix already halfway through performing the Killing Curse. At the same time there was a loud reverberating CRACK followed closely by a softer _pop_, and Regulus collided with something hard, knocking the air from his lungs and causing him to stumble back. A blinding point of light was thrust into his face and he looked up at the wizard who had just materialized out of thin air before him. He heard Bellatrix hiss irritably from beside him, and he risked a glance to see that she was in a similar situation with a witch who had likewise Apparated.

No one moved. A fresh bolt of lightning lit up the night with a strange, bluish glow. Then, seeming to have recognized them in the brief flash, the new arrivals lowered their wands, and Regulus could clearly see two more Death Eaters standing there, the light from their illuminated weapons glinting off their silver masks, which they no removed.

"What were you—" Lucius Malfoy frowned at Regulus' cousin, but stopped abruptly. A shrill squeak had sounded from nearby and the long furry animal that had frozen in terror at the unexpected appearance now attempted to complete its escape across the road. Rapidly redirecting his wand, Lucius shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

A burst of green rent the night and the small animal fell over on its side, dead. Lucius' partner, a short curly-haired witch whose name Regulus had forgotten, approached the limp form and kicked it over, checking to see if it was an Animagus.

"Plop goes the weasel," Bellatrix grinned unpleasantly, "though I'm sure, Lucius, you would rather it 'Weasley.'"

"Well, one thing is for certain," the blonde-haired wizard smirked, "if Arthur Weasley was an Animagus, then a weasel would no doubt suit him. Now come, we are expected."

The group turned and resumed its journey north along the dreary dirt path, and it was not long before the four travelers entered a long graveled drive on the left that was practically invisible amidst a thick forest of evergreens; their bristled boughs hung low over the entrance like giant hands, waiting.

As the Death Eaters passed beneath the organic arch, the branches appeared to quiver slightly, almost threateningly; but then Lucius held up his left arm, letting the sleeve slide down to uncover the dark skull and snake mark of their master, and the trees obediently returned to their dormant postures above.

Soon a large old house rose up out of the blackness, and Regulus gazed upon the familiar decrepit building with its weather-beaten exterior, loose or missing boards, and busted shutters: overall, a scene of death and decay. The great rotted door trembled open at their approach, and the four stepped over the threshold and into a different world; inside was a long polished hall, elegant in contrast to the outside, though it was not without the usual decorations of dust and cobwebs. Behind the ruinous walls nothing of the concealed interior could be guessed, for the building's outer appearance itself had been charmed to discourage the curiosity of unwanted eyes.

The claps of their boots and shoes rang throughout the musty air as the group made its way down the empty passage, passing by the room they normally occupied for meetings; instead they turned the cold knob of a second heavy wooden door to the side and entered.

The dim parlor was filled with about a dozen robed people seated around an enormous bare table in the center of the spacious room. Illumination came from a silver web-shrouded chandelier dangling from the high ceiling, and underneath its flickering candlelight many of the gathered Death Eaters were talking excitedly in hushed voices. The high-backed chair at the head of the table was empty.

Regulus' party strode forward, taking their places amongst the throng of followers. As Regulus sat down on the creaky chair the man next to him clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a twisted grin.

"Well, Black here was present, he can fill you in," announced Dolohov.

Regulus blinked uncomfortably as numerous eyes turned toward him. "Er, fill them in on….?"

Avery caught his attention from across the table and answered, "Saturday night—they heard there was a spectacular light show for the Muggles, if you know what I mean. One of the best attacks yet, in my opinion, even despite the bloody Order members who decided it was time to end the fun. But after we knock two of them out—"

"We?" Lucius raised his eyebrows. "Don't flatter yourself, Avery. Negotiations with a wand were never your strong point."

Avery frowned and closed his mouth, turning slightly pink as several smiles flashed in his direction.

"Well, go on then, Regulus," Snape said. "They've been pestering me for the past hour about what happened after the petrol station's explosive finale."

Seeing that the others were waiting for him to recount the night's tale, Regulus began, "After the station was destroyed…."

_Flashback_

Blackness smothered the broken neighborhood as it lay consumed in fire and debris. The smell of gasoline hung heavy upon the air. Suddenly, as rough warning sounded in the stillness.

"On your left!" Macnair shouted, his thick voice muffled behind his silver mask. Lucius spun around as a green-robes figure advanced on him; there was a blinding flash as Lucius raised his wand, and the Auror was thrown backward and disappeared beyond the veil of ash and smoke. A second jumped forward to take his place, but Regulus quickly knocked him out of the way with a Stunner. Not caring about the Ministry officials who had shown up threatening arrest a few minutes prior, he stepped sideway to get better aim at one of the Order members present. He flicked his wand, and the opposing spells met in midair with a violent burst of colors. Somewhere behind him he heard Bellatrix's crazed cheer, "Get him, Reggie, get him—make him bow before the Dark Lord!" A sharp yell followed as she sent a curse of her own flying at yet another emerald-cloaked Auror.

Ignoring his cousin's remark, Sirius shouted, _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ and his younger sibling barely avoided the charm as it whirled past and struck the skeleton of a ruined building beside him. Regulus pointed his wand again to counter and the two wizards continued to exchange hexes that increased in ferocity as their conjurors become more determined to strike their opponent at each miss.

All around them Regulus could see the other Death Eaters fighting off the swarm of Ministry witches and wizards as well as the few of the Order who had arrived shortly before them. How he and his companions had managed to hold them back for this long, he didn't know, though he supposed it was due to either skill or luck—the latter being more likely, Regulus decided, as he witnessed one of his fellows, Avery, wave his wand, stumble, and then topple out of sight.

Regulus saw his brother risk a glance backward and knew he was trying to come to James' aid as his friend stood behind him dueling Crabbe and another Death Eater. Predictable, Regulus thought as Sirius let loose two red Stunning spells almost simultaneously; Regulus blocked the first with a well-timed Protego, but was forced to dive out of the way of the second. Cursing angrily as he saw Sirius seize the opportunity to draw back, Regulus leapt hastily to his feet and rushed after him; then in a flurry of black robes, he disappeared.

His elder brother skidded to an abrupt halt as his pursuer Apparated out of thin air directly in front of him, wand held up threateningly, determined not to let him escape so easily.

"Out of my way, Regulus," Sirius said dangerously, taking a purposeful step forward. The masked figure did not budge. "I've been done with you for years," Sirius raised his own weapon. "Move aside!"

"No," came the flat reply. "I don't take orders from blood traitors."

Sirius shifted to the left, but Regulus did likewise, still barring the path onward.

"You're right," said Sirius, frowning, "instead you take them from the bloke bent on killing everybody. That's much better."

His brother's form stiffened. "Once again, your delusions are almost pitiful," he sneered coldly. "What our master desires is worth paying such a price for. Those who get in his way should only blame themselves."

"Typical Syltherin thinking, 'the ends justify the means,'" Sirius glared at him grimly. "Hate to break it t you but the whole 'pure wizarding world' fantasy isn't going to happen, if I can help it."

"We'll see just how useful you are after you've been Stupefied," Regulus retorted, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

"What, no threat of death from a Death Eater? Seems like Voldemort's servants are losing their touch."

The masked shape flinched slightly at this statement.

"What's the matter? Don't like hearing your dear master's name?" Sirius said, attempting to distract him until he spotted a chance to strike. "Maybe I should say it again—"

Regulus moved suddenly, but his brother proved faster; in a flash, Sirius had fired a jet of light from the end of his wand, and the surprised Death Eater was blown backward from its force. Snarling as he struggled up again, Regulus froze as a shadows fell over him, and he looked up into the battle-scarred face of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Well done there, Black," the seasoned Auror growled, knocking the wand out of Regulus' hand with his good foot and pointing his own weapon downward. Just as the trapped Death Eater found Moody's wand a little too close for comfort, he heard a cry of retreat. A great racket of _pops _and _CRACKS_ filled the scene, and the Ministry officials and the Order looked around to see the black forms of the Dark Wizards and Witches Disapparating. With a yell as he realized what was happening, Moody lunged forward, but too late; twisting away from his boot, Regulus snatched his wand up, blocked Sirius' last attempt to stun him, and vanished.

_End flashback_

"That hex your brother cast must have left a mark," the curly-haired witch commented suddenly, though whether sympathetic or sadistic Regulus couldn't tell. "You should have _Crucioed _him for that."

"Still better than Avery's attempt," Macnair snorted, no longer bothering to lower his voice. He proceeded to mimic a clumsy flourish of a wand, and then promptly fell off his chair. A chorus of laughter applauded his performance. Avery was determinedly staring at the opposite wall, his face having taken on an ugly shade of red. It was a large, apelike wizard sitting at the other end of the table who came to his defense, and he spoke slowly and hesitantly while his forehead contracted, apparently piecing the words together with a great amount of concentration.

"I didn't see you try and stupefy 'em with Stupefy," he grunted finally.

"Stupefy them with Stupefy," echoed a cold voice, and the entire assemblage jumped; Macnair scrambled into his chair in record time, leaving only a thin layer of dust smeared all over the back of his robes. "Such creativity, Crabbe."

No one laughed this time, and it was with nervous and wary faces that he Death Eaters watched their master as he crossed the room, each afraid that somehow he or she had done something displeasing and expected punishment at any second. The forced quiet felt strange after the preceding conversations, and Regulus could catch the uneven breathing of those within in immediate vicinity. Stuck beside a now allergy-covered Macnair, Rookwood let out a resounding sneeze and thumped his elbow on the hard wooden surface. To his relieve, Voldemort however took no notice of this as he joined the gathering at the head of the table.

A steady stream of rain had begun its relentless pounding against the covered windows as the group sat in the dark stillness. His curiosity getting the better of him, Regulus chanced a quick glance around and saw some of his companion shift uncomfortably, though none of them dared speak without permission. A deep chime sounded from an old clock in an adjacent room; then, finally, Voldemort broke the uneasy silence.

"We are short one this evening," he said, and his red eyes flashed toward a vacant seat near Snape at his right.

"My Lord."

Regulus heard the choir of chairs creak as all heads swiveled to see Dolohov leaning over across the table.

"He's in St. Mungo's, my Lord, recovering from some sort of exploding cauldron mishap, as I was told."

"How long have you known this?" asked Voldemort quietly. There was a pause.

"….A week, my Lord," came the hesitant reply, and the Death Eater shivered slightly under his master's gaze.

"News delivered late is rarely useful, Dolohov; certainly such a blunder of miscommunication could set much at risk. Do not let it happen again, for I assure you the consequences will be most unpleasant."

"Yes, my Lord," Dolohov swallowed.

Then, reverting his attention again to the others, Voldemort addressed the congregation as a whole.

"If you are prepared, we shall leave immediately."

The blank stares he received conveyed nothing but confusion.

"I promised a reward, did I not?" Voldemort said, peering around at them. "The war is going well; such a successful campaign calls for a night of festivity, a night of celebration." His snake-like mouth formed into a malicious smile. The mood in the dim parlor shifted considerably at these words, and his followers exchanged looks of excitement as they understood. "We shall give London a masquerade it will not soon forget."


	11. An Offer of Life and Death

**A/N: One note on the chapter--Millicent Bagnold is the only Minister JKR listed before Fudge who is close to the time period this story takes place, though she was not appointed until 1980. However, I felt it was better to use an actual canon character rather than make a total new one, so for the sake of the story, I have placed her as the current Minister.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters, places, and all related things are copyright to JKR.**

* * *

Chapter 11: An Offer of Life and Death

Everything was happening too fast—he could feel his heart pounding, his head throbbing, but he stubbornly ignored both. Regulus didn't even try to hide the sense of excitement that rose inside him as the nearest house burst into orange tongues of flame that danced bright against the enveloping darkness. High above, streetlights shattered and rained shards of hot glass all over the pavement; with a great scrape and groan of metal, the heavy steel poles came crashing down into the earth. Horrible cheers filled the moonless night, and the wind whipped his robes as the green-gray sky churned overhead.

Regulus glanced around and estimated there were about sixty of them, hooded, black-attired, and masked. He had never been in this large of a group before, and noticed the significant change in fearlessness and daring that accompanied the increase in numbers. Jubilant laughter rang out, clear and chilling in the dead air as the procession cleaved a path of destruction forward and left one in their wake. From the rear of the throng their master watched, silently, as the scene unfolded, observing his servants' enthusiasm amusedly. Occasionally, Voldemort would contribute a flick of his wand; there would be a great thunderous bang that drowned out all the others, and a passing structure would collapse in a violent torrent of rubble.

Every few minutes or so, a cluster of the Death Eaters would Disapparate to a different section of the city, for it had been decided that doing so was the most effective way to wreck havoc over a large area as quickly as possible before the authorities realized what was happening. As another collection of five figures vanished in a flurry of black cloth, Regulus noticed that the night had grown suddenly cold, and he looked back. Not far off in the distance he spied a heavy blanket of fog drifting slowly and eerily after them. He heard several faint screams as multiple dark and hooded shapes glided in and out of sight amid the white ocean of swirling mist.

"Wouldn't be a party without the dementors, eh?" A gruff-voiced man beside Regulus said, elbowing him in the ribs a little harder than was necessary.

Regulus didn't reply. He pictured the hideous creatures floating noiselessly in the gloom, searching for the terrified and unsuspecting Muggles whose souls were filled with the things the dementors hungered for and which the prisoners they guarded had not—happiness and hope. Regulus shivered at the thought of their rotten, decrepit hands reaching out, their awful rasping breath, and what would happen next; he forced his sight and mind back to the task at hand.

A pale green light reflected off the silver masks of those around him, and he knew without peering up that someone had fired the Dark Mark into the sky. By this time the commotion they were raising had attracted a good deal of attention from the neighbors; all around people still dressed in their nightclothes emerged from doorways or stared out of windows, their tired faces showing nothing but fear and confusion. The new audience was not unnoticed by the Death Eaters, who immediately welcomed the bystanders with a storm of multicolored curses. Then, a shrill screech of rubber against the road sounded through the din, and the droning wail of approaching sirens filled the evening.

"Stay," commanded Voldemort as some of the Death Eaters glanced around uncertainly. "Their lack of magic makes them weak; they can do nothing to hinder us."

Regulus barely caught sight of the police car as it rounded a corner ahead. In the next moment, it was careening backward, the helpless driver not even getting a chance to begin to comprehend what was going on before his vehicle smashed into the side of a tree at the end of the street. The cruiser rolled onto its side with a dreadful crunch of metal and glass. The lights and siren persisted, but there was no further movement from within the crumpled mass. Again, Voldemort raised his wand as a second car bounded after the first, a fire engine and ambulance in tow, and the emergency vehicles swerved down a side street, seemingly to have not seen the perpetrators or the ruin they had caused.

A cacophony of reverberating _CRACKs_ signaled the return of the others, and Regulus prepared himself to Disapparate with the next group. Detaching itself from the rest of its companions, the new batch of dark-clad figures turned on the spot and was gone.

* * *

A fantastic view of enormous buildings and skyscrapers sprang up before his eyes as he appeared in the middle of the dim deserted street. From somewhere close behind him, Regulus heard Rosier remark with a snort, "Bloody Muggle contraption—Apparition puts it to shame." Regulus turned around and saw the Dark wizard gesturing toward an incoming airplane, its blinking lights growing bigger and brighter as it descended on its way to land. But it was his fellow Death Eater's wicked grin that really got Regulus' attention, and it soon became clear that the other three with them shared similar thoughts.

"Rip it out of the sky!" one of the Carrow siblings called with a wheezy laugh.

The same sense of awful excitement thrilled inside Regulus as the craft continued in its approach. Moving as one, the Death Eaters lifted their wands; for an instant it seemed as if nothing had happened, but then, the flying transport gave a vicious wobble, stalling in midair high above. With a sound of failing engines, the plane's nose dipped suddenly, and the whole aircraft followed suit, plummeting to the ground like a giant rock. The area trembled with the impact as the winged vehicle connected with the earth, obliterating all buildings in its way as its momentum dragged it onward, hot sparks flashing out as its underside scraped against the tar.

Their purpose of destruction now fulfilled, the five gathered again to Disapparate, but before they could, a series of firework-like bangs made them start, and the night was filled with black shapes materializing around them. Wands were lowered as they recognized the arrivals.

"We've finished with East End for now," Nott said, spotting the questioning looks from Regulus and his small group. "The others have gone ahead to West End; something about intercepting the last train leaving Charing Cross station—" There was a pause as he quirked an eyebrow at the burning wreckage of the metal bird in the distance. "Trying to outdo us, are you?"

"Trying?" Rosier asked, a note of teasing in his voice. "I think we've succeeded in that direction—" He broke off abruptly, and he gave an involuntary movement with his left arm. Regulus didn't have to wonder what the matter was—he felt the familiar burning sensation on his own forearm. The now larger cluster of Dark witches and wizards exchanged quick glances as they readied themselves to obey the summons.

"Back and forth, back and forth," one of them drawled, tipping her head from side to side as if to emphasize the words. "I hope it at least confuses those stupid Ministry rats."

* * *

The rippling surface of the Thames glowed with the portending green light of the skull and twisting serpent that hung suspended in the air high above. The harsh wind had grown even bitterer, and lightening played in the sickly clouds over their heads as the whole of the Death Eaters stood from their vantage point overlooking the mighty river. Ahead was a clear view of the Hungerford bridge which led out from the mouth of Charing Cross station situated on the opposite side of the water, and running steadily upon its tracks was a final departing metro train, its front lights glaring through the unnatural darkness. A few of the robed figures shifted with anticipation.

"Patience," hissed Voldemort as he paced behind the prone line of masqueraders. Black fabric swished after him as he prowled, and between his long white fingers he twirled a dark yew wand. "We shall let it come closer before we strike." As the yellow-headed train drew nearer, he moved around to stand in front of them.

Regulus took the moment to peer over his shoulder; far underneath them on the street tiny shapes scuttled about, and he saw many of them stop to point incredulously at the shining Dark Mark emblazoned against the horizon. Among the panicked Muggles the teenage boy thought he glimpsed a few green cloaks, which the Ministry of Magic employees often wore while on duty. Aurors and Obliviators no doubt, though they seemed not to have realized that the criminals they were searching for were directly above their noses, concealed on the building's high rooftop.

They would not remain oblivious for much longer, however; the masked assembly raised their wands in unison as the Dark Lord issued the command, and the seconds seemed to drag on as they directed their malice toward that lone snake of metal. A trumpeting horn flared out as the train lurched suddenly, and there was a grating scrape as the wheels were forcibly yanked off of their guiding track. With a sharp veer to the left, the long vehicle burst over the edge of the railing and skimmed the top of one of the flanking pedestrian bridges before plunging front first into the murky depths below. The water rushed into the compartments and quickly swallowed the heavy train, which was lost in the inky waves.

* * *

"—One of the worst attacks in history—"

"—Is it true they've brought dementors?"

"Might be giants as well, I heard—"

"The Aurors are overwhelmed!"

"—A train derailment happened a few moments ago—"

"I know, Cromwell, I know," Millicent Bagnold snapped, flustered, as she strode hastily down the vast hallway that led to the Ministry of Magic's underground atrium. Ministry employees buzzed chaotically around her, awaiting orders, delivering news updates, and firing off questions much too rapidly for answers. The enormous fireplaces that dotted the length of the walls blazed with a constant flurry of green flames as various witches and wizards arrived and departed, and the charmed paper airplanes zoomed through the air in all directions, carrying their urgent messages beneath their official seals.

A short, bald wizard pushed his way through the crowded hall toward the Minister and the ring of people that revolved about her. His small round face flushed and his glasses askew, the man had to raise his voice to be heard over the pandemonium.

"Crash!" he called. "There's been a plane crash in north London! Flattened a whole line of buildings—"

Bagnold cursed under her breath at the unwelcome announcement. "Merlin's beard, this is ridiculous," she said, momentarily at a loss for words. "How many of them are there? They've managed to hit just about the entire city within a few minutes."

"_He's _with them Minister," the diminutive wizard swallowed, and the talking hushed considerably as many of the others turned to look at him with nervous eyes.

"Barty," said Bagnold, addressing the Head of Magical Law Enforcement after a brief pause. "Whatever Aurors you can spare I want sent to Downing Street immediately in case the Death Eaters target the Muggle minister. Make certain someone from the Department of Misinformation accompanies them to explain the situation."

The workers scurried off to carry out their designated orders, and the Minister glanced around the area to see if anything else had been neglected. Her gaze flickered upward toward the ceiling where the city of London lurked above.

"Someone double check the security enchantments; we don't want any more surprises here tonight."

"Minister!" a hoarse voice shouted, and she spun around to spot a trembling figure rushing out from one of the hundreds of roaring fireplaces. His robes were covered with a fine layer of soot and his face was sickly pale. His fellow employees stepped out of his way as he stumbled forward.

"What's the matter, Adair?" Bagnold asked, watching concernedly as the frightened man halted in front of her; he opened and closed his mouth several times before finally speaking.

"—It was awful—" he choked out suddenly. "The dementors were everywhere, and not many of us knew how to cast a Patronus….we were trying to calm down some of the Muggles when—" He stopped, as if the very words pained him.

"Yes?" the Minister urged him on. "What is it?"

"We were surrounded; they formed a circle around us."

"The dementors?"

"No, Death Eaters—they got most of us before we could do anything, and then…You-Know-Who came—" He broke off again and turned even whiter. Bagnold reached out and placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder, and her grave eyes met his. She swished her wand with her other hand, and a wooden chair appeared out of nowhere.

"Sit down," she said, indicating the new seat. "When you're ready—"

"You don't understand," the wizard gripped her arm hard, giving her a look that showed he thought chairs were trivial matters at the moment. "There's no time! He only let me live to deliver a message."

The Minister froze. "A message?" she repeated. The hall had fallen deathly quiet.

"He requests that you meet with him…personally," the man answered. "No harm will come to you, though you may bring as many Aurors with you as you see fit."

"You can't be serious," one of the green-robed workers scoffed.

"If you choose not to honor his wish," Adair continued as if no one had interrupted, "then the rest of the captives the Death Eaters are retaining will be killed."

Bagnold released her hold on him and drew back, brow furrowing as she considered the new predicament. "If I go, who will come with me?" she said after a period of silence, peering expectantly at the others at her side. "Even if I did trust his word, it would be foolish to go alone."

The remaining Aurors exchanged wary glances.

"How many are held hostage?" one of the witches inquired.

"About thirty-six Muggles, but I don't know how many Ministry employees," Adair replied, breathing a little steadier now. The witch mumbled something, evidently annoyed at the thirty plus lives at stake should the Minister decide not to leave.

"At this point," Bagnold sighed in defeat, "we don't have enough people left to pick and choose who is worth saving. The Ministry can't afford another huge loss in numbers if we still hope to win this war." She faced the hesitant Aurors, an expression of grim determination on her features. "I will discuss this matter no further; I shall go. Those of you willing to accompany me may do so."

* * *

Chilling laughter split the night air as dark shapes materialized out of nowhere, and the government representatives froze, the seven Aurors pointing their lit wand tips at the masked strangers cautiously; but the Minister motioned for them to hold as she faced the six Death Eaters, and though the sense of fear was present in her chest, her tone rang with authority.

"Show me directly to your master. I am not in the mood for games tonight," she stated simply. The two foremost figures bowed mockingly toward the witch as they replied.

"Such is our intention," one answered curtly, before turning with his companions and tromping back along the ruinous streets in a mazelike pattern, seemingly just for the purpose of irritating his followers. Bagnold said nothing, however, her gaze fixed on the passing scenes of desolation with increasing displeasure. She soon averted her attention forward as her escorts slowed, and she looked upon a fresh cause for concern.

Spread out before them in the center of the road was a vast ring of Death Eaters, and it was into the middle of this circle that the six leading figures brought her and the Aurors. Bagnold was not at all surprised to find herself face-to-face with the terrified mass of huddled Muggles and Ministry workers, constrained in place by their captors' raised wands. Nevertheless, she did not like the fact that she and her bodyguards had just been shoved into the same situation, and felt a twang of discomfort at the illuminated weapons that were pointed at her back. Beside her, the seven Aurors that had dared to join her glared at their enemies, though they were not foolish enough to attempt anything against them. Outside the black-garbed lasso, no other signs of life could be seen, and Bagnold hazarded a guess that the area itself had been charmed to repel unwanted intruders.

"So our special guest has arrived after all…"

Bagnold visibly jumped as the smooth cold voice spoke, and she stifled a noise as Lord Voldemort stepped forward from the opposite side of the circle; whether her failure to notice him had been due to her own distraction or the doing of Dark magic, she did not know, but it no longer mattered. There was no turning back now. She felt exposed and unprotected without her wand, and her right hand itched to dive into her cloak pocket to retrieve it, but something told her doing so would only complicate the circumstances. A shadow of fear crossed her face for a second, but then it was gone.

"I confess, my dear Minister," continued Voldemort softly, "I half excepted you to decline the invitation."

Another brief flash of emotion showed upon the witch's drawn features at his last word, but again she forced her countenance into one of indifference. "I would hardly call it an invitation," came her clipped reply, though she carefully kept her voice under control.

"I offered you a choice, which you accepted out of your own freewill, did you not?" His red eyes were watching the Minister closely, as if daring her to say otherwise. When she did not speak, however, he went on, "Eight years it has been…."

Again, he paused, but Bagnold maintained her silence.

"Eight long years of terror and death," the words were barely more than a hiss, and yet all those present stood still, as if rooted to the spot, clinging upon each sound. Even the Death Eaters, who rose up like stone sentinels, wands still raised, listened with bated breath as their master began to move back and forth slowly in front of the eight Ministry members. Voldemort's unblinking gaze never wavered from that of his addressee. "Such is the reality of war, as you well know."

A shrill yell emerged from the herd of hostages as one of the frightened Muggles shouted out, overwhelmed by the night's events and possessing no hope to comprehend what was taking place. A few of the Death Eaters focused their lit wand tips on the wailing woman, who was quickly hushed with the resounding bang of a Silencing Charm. An Auror on Bagnold's right, having mistaken the figures' intention to be more malevolent, charged forward suddenly, brandishing his own wand. By the time he had realized they had only purposed a Silencing Charm, however, it was too late to correct his mistake. In a single fluid motion, one of the masked shapes had redirected its aim, and a bright green streak of light rushed through the air, striking the unprepared wizard square in the chest. He crumpled to the ground and moved no more.

Bagnold utterly failed to quell her cry during this demonstration, and she called out in fear and fury, "Liar! You gave your word no damage would befall us here!" The other six Dark Wizard Catchers stared about nervously as they retained their protective positions by her side.

Voldemort's eyes glittered with malice as he answered coolly, "Did I? Certainly, Minister, I promised you would meet no harm, but I said nothing of your companions." He reached down and withdrew the black yew wand, sliding the piece of wood through his fingers lazily.

Bagnold blinked in disbelief as she understood her blunder in taking words for granted. She eyed the evil wand apprehensively, and the quiet pressed down heavily over all.

Finally, the Dark Lord spoke again, his silky voice more dangerous this time, "Every loss of magical blood is a waste, and regretful." It was ironically clear, however, as he resumed his pacing that he was far from remorseful regarding what had just occurred. "The dwindling of the wizarding race is a most undesirable thing, and it is for the preservation of the magical population that I have requested this parley. The current strife has brought about unnecessary death. You have the power to end it tonight, Minister." Voldemort stopped directly before Bagnold, and his intense stare bore into her own until she was compelled to look away. "I present to you a choice, now at this very moment, to cease your people's suffering. All it would take is a simple truce, and all of the affliction will be no more."

"Truce?" Bagnold breathed, not in a particular rush to trust all of her enemy's words this time. "Under what conditions?"

"The terms would be easy enough; Lord Voldemort is merciful. I shall call off my Death Eaters and the war shall come to a peaceful end. All I ask in return is for you to remove yourself from the picture, to pose no opposition that would prevent me from seizing control over the Ministry."

If the Minister had been surprised before, it was nothing to contest with the look of utter shock that now dominated her expression. For several seconds she only managed to return a blank stare, and she opened her mouth to no avail; no response emerged.

"I-I can't—" She swallowed. "You can't just expect me to—" she stumbled over her words again in incredulity, "—surrender my position like it is nothing."

"If you refuse," said Voldemort perilously, "then you give me no option but to double my assault until the Ministry crumples in defeat."

"It is my job to protect and support the magical population as well as the non-magical one. I won't—"

"Would a true protector condemn her subjects to torment and death?" Voldemort countered. "Such is the fate you are handing them."

"I will not neglect them by giving them up," the witch stated, though her voice quivered. "They will endure and stand strong if given the right support."

"Do not pretend, Minister," said Voldemort quietly. "If given the chance, you would not hesitate to resign from such a—wearisome—occupation."

"I didn't say so."

"No, but you are thinking it."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Bagnold dithered on the spot, evidently taken aback at how easily her mind had been invaded. A muted snicker rippled along the stationary ring of Death Eaters, and a number of unfriendly eyes peered mockingly at the uneasy witch.

"Clearly then, you already know my answer," she replied with controlled asperity. "I see no further reason to prolong this discussion, for its only purpose appears to be my degradation."

"Will you not voice your decision for the benefit of our audience, or shall I do so for you?" The Dark Lord's scarlet gaze flickered over the remaining Aurors with feign interest. "It is inconsiderate to leave your companions in the dark…or perhaps you have abandoned them already?"

The Minister's eyes narrowed and she clenched her hands in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The ever-present reminder posed by the masked figures and their wands prevented any sort of recklessness on her part.

"My final choice is no," she announced aloud, slowly, not daring to drop her guard by turning to face the Aurors behind her. "I will not sign away the magical government while there is still hope for England—"

"Hope for England?" a Dark Wizard on Bagnold's left scoffed. "I belief it ran out of that a long time ago."

The man fell silent as his master held up a pale, spidery hand.

"We should respect such a faithful conviction, Nott," Voldemort reprimanded dismissively, observing the Minister's agitation with unpleasant satisfaction. "No matter how foolishly optimistic it may be." Shifting back to seriousness once more, he continued with finality, "Very well, so be it. The war commences, except for this time, Minister, you will know it is because of you that it happens. You had the power to avoid such a disaster, but were too weak to use it. Now, you shall watch as your beloved government is leveled to the ground."

And with that, the army of wicked antagonists vanished, leaving the poor witch to deal with the frantic captives and the muttering Aurors.

* * *

**Well, thanks for reading, and as always reviews are appreciated!**

**-PurpleArmadillo**


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